Geography Lessons: A Young Man's Education
by ardy1
Summary: Challenge response to ZukoGetsLaid community. Specific locations for Zuko's exposure to adult pasttimes. Multiple characters and no specific pairings. 10 of 10 complete. Sexually charged stories with moderately strong language.
1. Cabbage Cart

A/N: At the ZukoGetsLaid community on lj, a challenge was issued regarding getting the boy laid in 10 specific geographic locations. I don't know if I will do all ten, but here is the first location: **The Cabbage Cart**

Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar: The Last Airbender I wouldn't be writing here, now would I?

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**The Cabbage Cart**

Perhaps it was just his age, but everything these days had a tendency to make him think of, well, he had to admit it, of sex. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the obviously much more important considerations of his life, the least little thing screamed erotica at him. It was getting downright embarrassing.

He had finally managed to find his way back into a major population center. He was proud of himself for rising above that period of brigandage that threatened to destroy his last vestiges of honor, bowing his head – and back – to common labor in order to feed his belly and that of the ostrichhorse. And very common labor it was, since Zuko had no real skills beyond combat and command. His shoulders ached from hauling sacks of rice and flour, his back protested hours spent with a shovel clearing stalls of muck

And then there were those damned cabbages.

Apparently cabbages could be planted and harvested sequentially throughout a season in some areas. Who knew? Who cared! And Zuko found himself bent low in a cabbage field with his knife slicing the stems of only those heads he had been taught were nearly mature yet still young enough to survive a cart ride to a reasonably close market. He filled basket after basket, and tried to seek some life lesson in yet another humiliation.

He longed to set afire the entire field.

The field owner was a cabbage fanatic. It figured. He was a tyrant who made Zuko wonder if perhaps his father had yet still lessons to be learned from the peasantry, and it cheered him to imagine the cabbage man and his father deep in consultation regarding the appropriate discipline to exact for the infraction of some arbitrary command.

Ah, and then he knew he was suffering from some kind of delirium, brought on by too much heat and exhaustion.

None of which should have provided fuel for Zuko's preoccupation with sex.

But there it was. The cabbage man was bad-tempered, awkward, gap-toothed and stringy of form and beard. His age was indeterminate. And this man had the amazing fortune to be married to a sloe-eyed, languorous woman of remarkable visage and even more remarkable breasts.

Who made herself apparent as the cabbage man hired Zuko for the day, catching the young man's eye with her all too appraising gaze and a smile that, oh! seemed to promise much more than a hot meal at the end of the day!

Hot meal indeed.

The cabbage man had gone on and on in his discussion as to which cabbages were appropriate to harvest, insisting on Zuko's noticing the faint citrine blush of the outer portion of tightly bound leaves around the firm globes, and their velvety texture. He rhapsodied as to the perfection of their size, the promise of their scent, and the pleasure of their ultimate consumption until Zuko had to close his own eyes and recite to himself a litany of the last eight generations of Fire Lords and their progeny to distract himself from associating cabbages with the cabbage man's lovely wife.

In her kitchen she gave him a meal redolent of cabbage stew and rice. The generosity of the portions on the table reflected the fullness of her hips, the warmth of her smile, and the hint of welcome in the length of time her own hand lingered on the bowl she placed before him. A hand that almost brushed his shoulder as she turned from him to return to the stew-pot.

His face burned as heat focused low in his belly.

Of course, the heat dissipated almost instantly upon bringing a final basket-load to the cart later that evening, almost to stumble upon the scrawny ass of the cabbage man pumping rhythmically between the silken thighs of the temptress of Zuko's haunted afternoon, their combined moans sufficient to cause him to abandon the basket and seek out his stabled ostrichhorse in a frantic effort to get as far away as possible from the scene.

He only prayed he would be able to face cabbage image-free in the future…


	2. Cave of The Two Lovers

A/N: At the ZukoGetsLaid community on lj, a challenge was issued regarding getting the boy laid in 10 specific geographic locations. The second location, **The Cave of the Two Lovers**, offered up some obvious possibilities. But I do hate to be obvious…

Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar: The Last Airbender I wouldn't be writing here, now would I?

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**Cave of The Two Lovers**

Stupid, stupid caves. He knew he hated caves. You didn't have to be a fire-bender to be claustrophobic. As for that wandering vagrant who had pointed out the path – what did he call himself? A musicologist? – the man was a blithering idiot! He was sure he could have left the vicinity of Omashu – or New Ozai as it was now called - by a more conventional route safely. So why should he traverse this idiotic system of caverns?

Okay. She was pretty. Oh hell, she wasn't just pretty – she was sultry! Mostly it was the way she moved, a sway in her walk that would accentuate every time she lapsed into dance, bared arms sometimes reaching heavenward, and an equally bare leg flashing interesting contours through the slit in her skirt. Her hair an ebony wave that she would pull aside to bestow a sleepy smile upon her companion. She lapsed into dance often, apparently without conscious thought. One couldn't help but notice, and appreciate it. Even if it was a bit…odd.

Add to all that the pull of fabric across her breasts and hips, the impossibly narrow span of her waist despite those curves. Yes, and she said she knew perfectly well that there was a way through, and she was going that way and no other.

A young woman shouldn't travel alone in these dangerous times. And the rest of her group apparently had no intention of accompanying her.

Which served as sufficient justification as to why he had taken this particular route. Surely all that undulating she seemed prone to offered the potential for real distraction from his life's problems. It wasn't as if he weren't planning on heading that general direction anyway.

But the ditz apparently had no real clue as to the route through to the other side. Once Zuko had determined that she not only did not know where she was going but also did not seem overly concerned about their prospects of emerging he started having second thoughts about the whole venture.

On the other hand, she didn't like the dark. And when he raised a bright blaze in one hand she was suitably impressed, clutching at his other arm and sidling up against him in a highly gratifying way. Why, she practically cooed! And Zuko's sorely battered ego received a boost he hadn't realized how much he needed.

So they continued forward. Zuko's internal compass reassured him for a while that they were making good progress, and the stimulating pressure of soft warmth against his side was reassuring as to his progress in that direction as well.

She didn't say much, just idle conversation about the various sights she had seen in her many travels with her musician friends. Some random comments about all the lovely people she had met. Clearly, there was not a lot of deep thinking going on in her head, nor did she seem inclined to deep attachments. Which was good. Zuko was not looking to make that kind of impression on her at all. He was hoping for a very different kind of impression, something admittedly short-lived but, well, still penetrating.

Somehow he felt certain that she too had a similar rendezvous in mind. There was an eagerness in her eyes, a heat that seemed to intensify the further they went into the cave. Zuko may have been inexperienced but he had actually managed to pay attention to quite a lot of things in his travels since leaving the Fire Nation. No, she was sending off signals all right. He was just beginning to wonder when to let her know of his own active response to those signals when he suddenly realized that not only were they thoroughly lost but that they had reached a dead end.

A familiar dead end, for they had passed that peculiarly colored rock formation earlier. Only it hadn't been a dead end then.

The tunnels had moved. Shit. Earthbenders.

He said as much, and she not only didn't seem surprised but grew excited.

Zuko felt something in the pit of his stomach that was no longer to be equated with arousal. This something grew as he heard a rumble and one of the walls before them began to tremble. And fall, with an enormous cloud of dust. That in the dim light of Zuko's fire almost obscured the equally enormous beast nearly filling the newly formed tunnel.

As the dust settled said enormous beast's unsettlingly outsized claws were also made apparent. None of this bothered Zuko, really, because he felt more than equal to any beast given his fire-bending and swordsmanship. It did seem rather odd that the girl beside him wasn't more bothered, though.

And it was downright astonishing when she actually started running towards the beast, with a glad cry –

"Sokka! There you are!"

"Hey, Toots! Why did you wander around so much? It took me forever to find you…"

And Zuko watched in utter befuddlement as the Avatar's companion reached an arm down from his perch astride the giant badgermole to pull the dancer up behind him.

"You – you…what - ? You were coming here to…meet _him_? Him?" An altogether strange scenario began to form in the young fire-bender's mind. The array of emotions accompanying this scenario nearly overwhelmed him.

The Water Tribe boy looked down at Prince Zuko, amusement warring with annoyance on his features. "I don't know why you're here, Zuko, but I suggest you turn around now, unless you want to be buried alive. Right, Buddy?" And he patted the badgermole warmly.

Every molecule of Zuko's being seemed frozen in place. He was lost. The girl he had hoped to finally explore the world of carnal recreation with was now clutching the waist – it was just his waist she was clutching wasn't it, please? – of that most obnoxious of obstructions to his life's goals. The assurance of said obstruction regarding his mount's ability to bury Zuko before he could act otherwise worried him. Could life get any worse?

"Ah, Zuko?" There was an undeniable smirk on Sokka's face as he nudged the badgermole to begin backing up into the tunnel. "You're gonna want to put out both those fires if you want to get out of here." With which cryptic statement the entrance to the tunnel collapsed behind them, leaving Zuko alone.

Both fires? What? Only one flame burned in his hand. In sudden realization and utter humiliation he looked down. Shit.


	3. Under Azula's Nose

A/N: At the ZukoGetsLaid community on lj, a challenge was issued regarding getting the boy laid in 10 specific geographic locations. The third location, **Under Azula's Nose**, requires the participation of at least one of Ozai's Angels. Not guessing that relations between the royal siblings would encourage incest I opted for shy Mai. Unlike Azula, though, I just couldn't put the two of them together in a way that made me laugh. Sigh.

Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar: The Last Airbender I wouldn't be writing here, now would I?

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**Under Azula's Nose**

It was all Azula's own fault, really. All that juvenile teasing she did, her nasty little schemes to put him in uncomfortable positions with her little friend, all that did was tell him that her friend, the tall, gawky one, had a crush on him. At least, he was pretty sure she had had a crush on him.

Of course, that was years ago.

He almost didn't recognize her in the frenzy of that encounter with Azula and the Avatar. For one thing, there was nothing gawky in her presence anymore. No, she moved more like a panther, with a swift, sure grace that spoke more of tightly coiled strength than the pure agility of Azula's other friend. Or, for that matter, of Azula herself. Her face had lengthened, and there was also something of the jungle predator in her expression, something withdrawn, isolated. Cold. And there was certainly nothing shy or awkward about the way she fought to aid Azula's ends.

It was Mai, all right. Lean, angular, intense, and striking in a way he would never have predicted when they were children. Dangerous and very, very sexy.

Yes, Zuko would be lying to himself if he tried to deny that these days nearly every woman he met under the age of, say 35 even, wasn't sexy in some way. That didn't make him abnormal, just healthy.

As for finding Mai very sexy? Well, perhaps not every guy would find sleek, svelte, cold, gorgeous power sexy. For example, if a guy had no heartbeat he wouldn't be interested at all. No, Zuko concluded that even if she scared a guy silly he would still have to admit she was sexy. And Zuko wasn't scared.

She let him go. No one else saw it. Just the two of them. She deliberately stood aside and let him go. Which Zuko found very interesting, indeed. Mai was obviously still at Azula's beck and call, and Azula's intentions regarding her brother were quite clear. Prison or death. Knowing Azula, she would prefer him dead.

So what was Mai up to?

He knew he shouldn't. He knew it was dangerous and counter-productive, but he couldn't let it go.

Was it possible that this new, grown-up Mai with the amazingly long legs and sensual roll to her hips as she walked – no, strode – was it possible that there was something left of her school-girl crush? Would that be the reason behind her covert flouting of Azula's will? It was a delicious thought. On so many levels.

So he stalked her. It was no big deal, because Azula was following the Avatar's trail – which Zuko was interested in as well. He wasn't about to yield the prize he had sought so long to his sister's greedy claws. But he was focused more on Mai than Azula or that insane kid and his friends.

That first night he let her see him just beyond their camp was as thrilling as anything he had done in years. The fact that she did nothing was highly encouraging. Yes, indeed.

The next night he came close enough to whisper her name as she walked by. She didn't pause but he swore he saw her lip curl in a slight smile.

She was waiting for him the third night, as if they had exchanged letters of assignation. Wordlessly she came into his arms, and his heart skipped a beat at the sudden thought that she could bury cold steel into his body. Long fingers snaked around his neck and she pulled his head down to her own. She pressed hot lips against his cheekbone, and in response he brushed his own lips along her jawline. He pulled her close, one hand low on her hips as she insinuated every contour of her body against his. Ah yes, he could feel hard edges among the yielding flesh, and Zuko marveled at his own temerity in approaching one of his sister's companions, a young woman carrying as much weight in cruel hardware as he did himself.

The awareness of all that hidden metal was almost enough to quell the heat her touch was raising in his blood. Almost. But then her lips found his and Zuko's brief bout with caution was terminated.

Her kisses conjured again the predatory jungle beast, for there was nothing gentle or timid in the way her mouth devoured his. Now one of those long-fingered hands had slipped within the folds of his tunic and the fire-bender strangled a low moan as her nails played against the skin of his chest, inciting his heated blood into a consuming flame. When Mai leveraged herself against him with one leg wrapped around his waist he found himself blessing his sister's murderous tenacity and reliance on old friends.

Only to curse her soundly when her voice rang out, calling Mai's name. The girl clinging to him like a second skin froze momentarily, and Zuko was astonished at experiencing a sensation like the dousing of a torch within her. She sloughed herself away from him, eyes lingering on his just long enough to confound him by their lack of expression. Then she walked away, hands arranging her clothing to remove any sign of disarray.

Zuko reached out to take her arm, pull her back, speak to her, something - anything to tell him this wasn't over. And pulled back just in time as a jagged wheel of bright steel whipped into the wall behind him.

He sought out their camp yet another night, but it seemed Mai was otherwise occupied. He was about to creep away when he overheard a snippet of conversation between Aula and Ty Lee.

"Honestly, has she done it again?" Ty Lee was wide-eyed in her incredulity.

"She's like a spider-snake – you know how the females devour the males after they mate? Of course, she's getting better at hiding the bodies, so it's easier to overlook," There was mild amusement in Azula's tone, but Zuko did not stay to hear more.

Zuko decided to listen to his senses when they screamed something like "predator" at him again. He most decidedly did _not_ like being the prey.


	4. In the Middle of a Fire Festival

A/N: At the ZukoGetsLaid community on lj, a challenge was issued regarding getting the boy laid in 10 specific geographic locations. The third location, **In The Middle of a Fire Nation Festival**, posed many opportunities for pairings, but I admit I could manage outright sex. Still, I think you will all enjoy the particular twist I put on that most famous of Zuko's accoutrements.

Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar: The Last Airbender I wouldn't be writing here, now would I?

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**In the Middle of a Fire Nation Festival**

The great thing about Fire Nation Festivals is the tradition of attendees wearing masks. Of course, not everyone does so, but so many do that no one looks twice at a masked figure. So it was easy for him to wander at will among the many reminders of the home he hadn't seen for so long. Given that his preferred mask was as fixed a feature on wanted posters as his own face, this evening's visage was a brightly hued lion-shark, complete with bulbous eyes and hinged jaw. He actually thought it a bit silly, but it was no more outrageous than many of the others he saw.

The other great thing about Fire Nation Festivals is, of course, festival food – specifically, fire flakes.

He was looking for the nearest food-stall to satisfy his craving for fire flakes when his eye was caught by, of all things, a blue spirit mask brazenly worn by a passerby.

For a brief second his heart stopped. Then his anger blazed. Finally he called upon the hard-won patience he had learned, and forced himself to think before acting.

Well, upon consideration he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, the Blue Spirit was now so notorious as to be almost ubiquitous. Wasn't that why he had originally chosen the mask in the first place? For its anonymity? There was nothing special about it, and it was widely copied for theatrical performances. There was simply no point in the army's arresting everyone who wore or even possessed such a mask.

Zuko laughed inwardly. He had been needlessly concerned with distancing himself from the blue spirit identity he had created precisely to give himself a refuge from being Prince Zuko. He was making his life unnecessarily complicated. As if it weren't complicated enough as is.

Still, he was curious as to who would wear a blue spirit mask besides himself given its current notoriety. Someone ignorant? Or someone with a bent towards recklessness…

Forgetting his interest in his appetite he decided to follow the mask, but by now the individual was lost in the crowd.

He wandered past mummers and jugglers, a troupe of musicians touting the latest popular songs throughout the three kingdoms, a childish puppet show and seemingly endless crowds of merry-makers. By now, he was annoyed. But also, by now he was determined.

And then, over in the circle of contestants sparring in un-armed combat without weapons – without bending, even, he spied the Blue Spirit.

There were perhaps a dozen or so contestants, all cavorting in the circle with varying degrees of competence. Each had its cohort of fans in attendance. Zuko noted that the Blue Spirit's coterie was apparently largely female, at least based on the higher pitch of the calls yelled in support of the lithe figure making short work of any opponent who dared to challenge him. With their profusion of masks and festival garb it was impossible to be sure.

Snagging refreshment from a food-stall and a flask of locally brewed beer, he relaxed, content to observe this usurper who dared to don the identity he had claimed as his own. This was amusement he had never contemplated in decided to attend the Fire Festival.

He watched for a few minutes, and it didn't take long to ascertain that the Blue Spirit was clearly head and shoulders above the other contestants. His movements were spare, and he waited for another to engage him before striking. He moved in a style unfamiliar to Zuko, although he was sure it struck some chord of memory in his experience. He just couldn't place it. And now he was truly intrigued.

Throwing caution to the winds Zuko surrendered the coppers in entrance fee to join the other contestants in the sparring circle. By now the dregs had all been eliminated, and Zuko had to earn his place in the circle by meeting opponents of some skill. But Zuko had been trained by the best in the Fire Nation and he knew it. He knew there were few who could best him, and he did not expect any of them to show in this obscure territory of the Earth Kingdom that had been colonized by the Fire Nation.

Very soon it was just the two of them. And calls for "the Blue Spirit" and "the Red Lion" were echoed around the circle, and bets were flowing freely. The circle's promoters were delighted, for they received a cut of all the side bets as well as the bulk of the entrance fees. The night promised well for them.

The odds? The Lion had inches and mass over the Blue Spirit, this was evident. Both were fast, amazingly so. And the grace exhibited by each was exhilerating to behold, almost as exciting as the trail of broken limbs and bruised bodies each had left behind in this battle for ascendancy. Unfortunately, the oddsmakers were to experience disappointment, for the margins between betting on the two were just not enough to generate much revenue on points. Still, the excitement would carryover into future contests, and the promoters were pleased indeed.

Zuko circled his opponent quietly, taking the moment to catch his breath over the last encounter as well as to observe. The Blue Spirit had fought several more combatants than he had, but they were certainly lower caliber, and he had been given the grace of rest as Zuko defeated the third man in contention for the evening's crown. In all likelihood, exhaustion would not be a deciding factor, although stamina may prove important in the end. He knew better than to assume his greater size equaled greater wind.

There was an economy of movement in the Blue Spirit that Zuko admired. It mirrored his own preferred mode of battle. But he had entered this contest in the spirit of challenge, and had no intention of waiting the other out.

He charged. And found his legs whipped out from beneath him and an elbow slammed into his gut as he went down hard in the dust. He whipped himself back up and danced aside, his own heel striking out to catch his opponent's knee in a crushing blow. To find him not there.

Zuko longed to lash out flames in this contest, but the rules were clear. This was to be unarmed combat in every sense of the word.

Now the two closed in a dance that left spectators breathless. The Blue Spirit's blank eyes met those of the dragon mask, and on-lookers swore afterwards that the two exchanged a kiss akin to that of lovers. Shoulders met, hips checked, and somehow the Blue Spirit's arm hooked just so and the Lion went down again. The crowd roared.

Zuko sprang up again almost instantly, but his mind was clouded by the realization from that last clench that his opponent was female.

This time as he circled his senses strove to confirm what his body already knew for a certainty.

And it was there. Oh yes. And memory began to fill in the pieces. Her center of gravity was lower, her stance centered in her hips. And she moved with a feline grace Zuko knew from experience could be perfectly fatal. Now he cursed himself for not waiting, watching, and allowing his memory to remind him where he had experienced this form of fighting before.

It was not his sister's aggressive, virtually sexless attack, nor even the feral or acrobatic strikes of her personal minions. No. This was something else.

He closed again, knowing that without his bending or swordsmanship he had no better than even odds of besting this young woman. She had a counter for every move of his, and each was calibrated to use his superior force against him. Knowing his chances of winning were poor, he decided to take the opportunity to learn from this encounter in ways he could not when the stakes were so much higher.

He might have been less determined had he known the punishment his lessons would mete out to him.

She won, finally.

Later, when he had finally consumed that flask of beer and finished off the long-delayed fire flakes, when he hauled his bruised and exhausted form through an alleyway of festival tents, he found his collar grabbed roughly as he was muscled inside one of those tents. He didn't need the Blue Spirit mask to recognize his assailant. He didn't protest the attack.

"What do you want with me, Lady?" He asked quietly.

"You were good," she answered. "Better than most. I wanted you to know that."

He bowed, mockingly, "Have there been so many before me?"

She chuckled. "I'm not entirely sure I like the way that sounds."

"Well, I obviously wasn't the first," he said, "And I don't expect to be the last, but I hope at least I'll be one you remember."

She pulled the mask from her face, revealing startling green eyes framed by cropped auburn hair, a face more memorable for its strength of character than for its particular beauty. Zuko felt enveloped in the fierceness of those emerald eyes.

She jerked the hinged jaw of his mask down, revealing the lower half of his face, and with her other hand brought his face to hers. Her whisper was as fierce as her eyes.

"Indeed, Fire Nation Lion, and I will make sure you remember me, as well," and she brought her lips to his in a kiss that battered his senses as she had earlier battered his body. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to feel again the rush of fire a girl's sweet curves against his own body would bring.

He wasn't sure what hurt more, his tailbone as he hit the ground, his solar plexus from her stiffened fingers burying themselves against him, or his pride as she murmured, "You weren't _that_ good."

It would be a while before he donned the Blue Spirit mask without a grimace.


	5. Upon The Deck of His Ship

A/N: At the ZukoGetsLaid community on lj, a challenge was issued regarding getting the boy laid in 10 specific geographic locations. The fifth location, **On The Deck Of His Ship**, requires a step back in time to the first season. I insisted to myself I would not really introduce new characters (this despite the cabbage man's wife in the first setting) and had also promised the fandom that I would explore the slash concept – despite my own incomprehension of its appeal. Sorry folks. Still not getting it.

Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar: The Last Airbender I wouldn't be writing here, now would I?

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**On the deck of his ship**

Six of them, filmy gauze-draped bodies whirling, necks like swans and gazelle legs stretched at impossible angles in the course of upper torso movements that made his head swim. Or maybe it was the plum wine in combination with the complex drumbeats that accompanied the dancers on deck assaulting his ears.

It was Music Night. Of course. It would be. A stupid custom his uncle had initiated in those first months at sea to distract him from his depression over his banishment had become a fixture in the minds of the crew. Impossible to terminate and almost impossible to ignore.

Especially when Uncle Iroh took the opportunity of their being moored in the harbor of a large port to hire entertainers to supplement the crew's efforts. As ostensible host, Prince Zuko had to sit in for at least some of the performance.

Uncle refilled his cup with the wine, murmuring knowledgeably half under his breath, "…ah, yes, the 'three-bended' form, so perfect for accentuating the natural female curvature, and so expressive…"

It was all a distraction from his real purpose at sea; to find the Avatar and return as his father's heir again. But this was something of a celebratory evening, anyway. The ship had survived the storm with minimal damage; the tower railing had already been replaced, and hull plating reinforced where necessary. Supplies were restocked and Prince Zuko felt he had finally gotten a sense of the Avatar's direction now. And, yes, the morale among the crew had taken an upward lift, from whatever source the Prince did not know or care, but was happy to admit made things a bit easier on him.

So he was willing to overlook the evening's raucous displays on the part of the crew in their appreciation of the hired performers. He was almost tempted to call out himself on one or two occasions, so impressive was the sheer athleticism of one young woman's movements as she leapt, twisted, and snaked her body into the life of the story being told by this particular dance. It rivaled anything he had seen in his combat training.

Perhaps his uncle was right about opening his horizons to other experiences.

Take the costumes, for example. Now, generally speaking, it wouldn't make sense to wander about with so much exposed skin. A person would get cold, and the bright colors would tend to draw a lot of unnecessary attention. But when you were dancing like that, well, the whole point was to keep attention on you, and probably the less you wore the better. All that body heat generated from the exercise. Yes, you could see their skin positively glistening – that girl's midriff reflected the torchlight just the way the sheen of her pleated pants did, or the curve of fabric crossing her shoulder and bust-line…

Prince Zuko took another large swallow of the plum wine. The sweetness washed across his tongue even as he felt a moist heat permeate his blood. He would stay just long enough to finish this cup, then take his leave and return to his quarters to plan out the morning's course. That should certainly fulfill his social obligations.

For the last several years his dreams had been disturbed by images of different girls of his acquaintance, even (shuddering) his sister and most certainly her friends, in the most compromising circumstances. Happily, usually these dreams were peopled with more abstract images of figures seen once or twice in his father's court. More recently these female images were augmented with white-painted faces with crimson lips, or wide blue eyes against dusky skin and long dark braids. He would awake with evidence of his arousal before him, to be quelled with an all too experienced hand.

He already knew that his night would be consumed by drumbeats and rainbow hues with him as a principal role in some hero's tale involving a lovely, lithesome beauty in need of rescuing. He hated clichés, and sorely wished his imagination could provide him with more satisfying fodder, but he also knew the point of his dreams was not the means but merely the end, the reward of his efforts.

The fire prince abruptly rose in the middle of a dance, much to Iroh's dismay. He bowed once to the dancers and their accompanists, then again to his crew, and then his uncle, and then retreated to the aft section of the ship's deck, well beyond view of the Music Night assembly.

The stern was virtually deserted, as he had expected. Just one other figure there, thankfully, that of another young man. Who looked distinctly uncomfortable to be shipboard.

Prince Zuko remembered his own first days on water and, for once in his life, felt empathy for an Earth Kingdom native.

No doubt, had it not been for the influence of the wine and the confusion of his senses from the dances, he would have ordered the intruder away. But he didn't. He didn't even call for a guard detail. Why should he? He could look after himself, after all.

"Your group is very…proficient," Prince Zuko could not bring to mind a complement that would not suggest too much of what he was walking away from, and did not want to suggest that his libido had been engaged, no matter how true this was.

"They have been called brilliant. But perhaps your highness' taste is somewhat jaded?" there was a wistfulness to his answer that did not mask its underlying bitterness.

"No, no! I'm not a good judge. I… they are amazing," He felt his answer was inadequate, an insult to himself and to the performers, but he was lost for the moment, and infuriated by it. He looked again at the young man before him.

He wondered if the troupe used this young man to sell their show, for all that he never appeared before the audience. He had one of those faces the sculptors sought out for heroic figures, all high cheekbones and chiseled lines, hooded eyes gleaming like cool jade in its darkest form, yet hinting at celery lights. His chestnut hair flowed over his shoulders in a fall any woman would have embraced – or envied. And Zuko hadn't spent over two years largely confined to a shipful of sailors not to appreciate the broad shoulders and smooth musculature that rippled lightly beneath tunic and leggings of the awkward young man that turned to face him squarely.

Now Zuko wondered if it would be rude to seek out another cup of that plum wine.

"They are good, you know. Extraordinarily so. You should tell others…ah, but. You're Fire Nation. What does it matter?"

"We're not idiots," Why did he bother? He knew his people believed more in annihilation than anything else.

The beautiful boy had turned away, as if accepting his fate. But he turned at Zuko's words.

"No? Did you like what you saw? Did you know it was all derived from the Air Nomads? Or if you did, would you destroy them, again, too?"

"You can't just assume we're all out to destroy everything," he cried out in protest. He knew it was a lie.

The other boy laughed, but there was no humor in it. He looked out again at the view, and Zuko noted his eye was fixed on the land. This was an earthbender. His discomfort was unmasked, and Zuko felt again his superior element's advantage.

The defiance hadn't died out. If anything, Zuko wondered if it had hardened.

He reached out and grasped the arm of the other young man below his elbow, gently, without force. His education was all about reading others, not about actually doing anything. He had no idea as to the actual doing of anything. But he had no desire to kill this boy. What other choice had he?

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

Prince Zuko considered, and admired the other youth for his acceptance of the Fire Lord's autonomy of this land that had once owed allegiance only to the Earth Kingdom.

And the young man, rigid under his hand, his heart embedded in the earth, his soul soaring in the imaginative lift of a dancer's leg, challenged everything Zuko knew or believed.

And Zuko knew there was no acceptance at all, that everything about this youth's presence on his ship was a lie. That he owed him nothing.

So they fought. Zuko could not bring himself to burn the other, some idiotic sense of fair play called into being that locked him away from sure victory. He despised himself for the weakness, but when he found himself astride the other youth, eyes locked upon his adversary, he wondered at the passion that had displaced his earlier lust.

"You are a fool," He said evenly, his breath recovered from the struggle.

"I thought once I was. Now, I'm not so sure," And the handsome emerald-eyed boy had the effontery to smile at the fire prince, and with a sudden kick to his chest and a roll to the side, the Earth Kingdom boy had plunged over the gunwale's side into the shallow harbor.

And Zuko swallowed an odd feeling of exhilaration akin to that he had felt with the turn of a dancer's shoulders, exposing a brief glimpse of breast. He wondered if it were a subject he could broach with Uncle Iroh. Then again, he had not felt comfortable expressing his agitation regarding the dancers' presence on the ship; how could he possible discuss this concern with his guardian?


	6. On the Back of A Flying Bison

A/N: If you've read any of the previous entries, you are aware that there is a challenge on the LJ community to get our good buddy Zuko laid in 10 defined locations. I've made it my objective in life to describe scenarios wherein he aims to achieve said goal. And, let's just admit it, falls short. For which I earned the sobriquet "Zukogetsnone." I'm proud to own that title, I tell you, damned proud!

Then a particularly brilliant member of the community deftly presented five locations all at once that not only tortured/frustrated the dear boy in the first four, but granted him significant orgasmic relief in the fifth. I was prepared to rest humbly on my cruel, somewhat tarnished laurel leaves.

Then I was reminded that five more locations lay awaiting exploration (well, two had been thoroughly vetted but, perhaps, the guidebooks could be edited from another perspective?), and if I did not venture perhaps Frost's "The Road Not Taken" would not just remain a metaphor (anyone, anyone? Like the literary reference?) Ah nuts. I took the initial challenge on, I just have to admit I want to try to complete it! Whatever it takes!

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't claim it; am free from legal action thereby.

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**From The Back Of A Flying Bison**

There was no question whatsoever in his mind that this whole scenario was excruciatingly uncomfortable. This motley crew of rebels supporting the Avatar pained his soul to recognize, let alone be named a part of. Still, it was infinitely better than leaving the Avatar to a capricious fate given his sister's tenacity.

That the elder of the water tribe siblings had laughed at his honest explanation of his position didn't make things any easier. He regretted now not having seared the boy on those occasions in which he had had the opportunity to do so. The peasant's attitude was offensive in the extreme, even more so given his easy familiarity with individuals clearly his superior in talent and strength, and the willingness of the others to listen – if not always defer – to his opinions.

Yet again he cursed his uncle for agreeing to his own mad suggestion of accompanying the Avatar in his search for the Deserter, leaving Iroh behind. How he longed for his uncle's assessment of his odd companions, even if he wasn't prepared to agree in any way with that judgment.

"Forget it."

Zuko ignored the voice, allowing his own frustrations to flow through his gesture at the evening's collection of kindling and firewood, bringing stark leaping shadows to the constrained circle of trees in which they had made camp.

Toph had already erected the tent-shaped edifice in which she would sleep, and had retreated to the nearby stream with Katara to erase the days' accumulation of toil and aggravation. The boys had erected Katara's and Sokka's tent, collected firewood, and scouted for edibles for their evening meal. Impatient, Sokka had already mounted a spit for roasting the raccoon-goose they had trapped, and filled the kettle with water to boil whatever Katara made of the greens and roots Aang had gathered. At the moment, Sokka was occupied with skinning, plucking and gutting their catch for the meat-eaters among them.

As always, Aang would sleep among Appa's warmth and comfort. Zuko himself had found the beast's pungent form an aromatically challenging but soothing bed. If anyone found it ironic that on one side cuddled the Avatar against his animal guide and on the other relaxed his most persistent of pursuers, no one said a word. Perhaps Sokka chuckled in his sleep, but he would not admit it.

Aang was exhausted, and gave the older boys at best half an ear. Honestly, the Avatar showed signs of stress from balancing the demands of his two bending teachers, and it gave Prince Zuko sweet satisfaction to note that even a prodigy faced challenges in fathoming the intricacies presented by the opposite sex. Even a juvenile member of that sex.

"Nothing. I repeat. Nothing is going to happen."

"Okay. No clue as to what you are talking about. Frankly, I can't imagine that you could express a single coherent thought anyway, so don't strain your tiny brain trying to explain yourself." It was an easy insult, and Zuko only regretted the girls' absence, since their commentary had at least the appearance of some intelligence. And they both took some enjoyment out of his trifling jibes at Sokka.

"Hmm. I'd hoped you were smart enough for me not to have to spell it out. But oops. I guess the Fire Nation royalty practice inbreeding, and everyone knows what problems that leads to. Sorry. Wouldn't want to offend your highness with a concept beyond your reckoning," Sokka expressed dryly, silently almost wishing Aang had a couple more years' maturity on him to share his insult to the obnoxious prince.

"If you expect me to grasp intelligence from random remarks then I admit, you expect too much…" Perhaps it was only his age, his gender, and the sad recognition of sexual frustration that led him to connect said random remarks in an unfortunately suggestive pattern. Only to be on the verge of dismissing that pattern until he considered the age, gender, and potential sexual frustration of the uttering party.

Blue eyes met gold. At first it was no more than the polar ice challenging the winter sheen of the sun. But an odd life formed upon that meeting, and a dull glow suffused both boys' faces as understanding and recognition were exchanged.

"Idiot."

"Dreamer."

"I'm _not_ perverted."

"Prove it."

"And you?"

"Don't be disgusting!"

Despite himself, Zuko laughed. Had they been speaking at random there was still some resonance in their exchange, and looking at the younger he concluded it was perfectly possible that they had been perfectly in sync.

"Fine. What's your problem?"

"I've seen the way you look at my sister."

"So?"

"Ass. I've spent most of the last six months with no other girl in sight than my sister. Any new girl that does appear makes me fall over myself. Look, if I hadn't seen the way you look at her I might think you didn't have the same problem, but I'd have to be a total moron to miss it. _Oh._ I'm _not_ a total moron. Dream on."

"What about Toph?"

"Hello! She's tough as nails, but she's still a child! You _are_ disgusting!"

Zuko looked at the water tribe youth with new respect dawning. "Back off! And relax! Yes, of course she's a child – how dare you suggest _I _think otherwise? And your peasant sister is just another girl to me…"

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Sokka growled in response.

Zuko shrugged. "So yeah, she's a girl. Are you suggesting I ignore that fact?"

"Ignore. Forget. Wholly eliminate from every fiber of your being. That's exactly what I'm suggesting – No. What I'm ordering!"

That the water tribe peasant should feel himself in any position to order anything of Prince Zuko was laughable, but the past held certain niggling memories that made Zuko hesitate. He had experiences, so to speak, that Zuko had to respect.

"Guys? The girls are back and I'm headed out for a bath. You coming?" Aang blithely asked, drawing their attention back to towel-wrapped female figures approaching with heads bent in apparently good-natured argument. Zuko watched as Sokka paused momentarily, perhaps to assure himself as to the validity of the girls' mood – he was drawn in surprisingly often to resolve conflicts Zuko would have assumed the Avatar would have been better suited to handle.

"Ah, no. Just gonna have Appa take me up to check our position with the stars," Sokka leapt to the bison's head with sudden alacrity. Zuko had noticed the Water Tribe boy took the bison out on a fairly regular basis at night. When it was just them, as opposed to those nights spent near a town.

On _those_ nights Sokka always slept later than the rest of them. Which Zuko ascribed to his observed habit of sneaking off during the night, only to return in the small hours to crash heavily. Zuko, being a light sleeper for reasons he liked to categorize as his wariness for combat, had observed this behavior with interest since he took it upon himself to safeguard the Avatar.

"I think I'll go with Sokka," Zuko drawled casually, his eyes noting Sokka's sour response. "I'm interested to observe this celestial navigation technique for myself."

"Just don't wear Appa out," Katara admonished as she finger-combed her wet, long locks into order, and one edge of the towel shifted a bit lower as she raised her arm.

Zuko resolutely looked away. At – at the neat braid of the cinch that secured the litter to the bison's brawny back. He hauled himself aboard as Sokka called out quietly, "Yip-Yip."

"All right. What are you _really_ doing up here?" Zuko leaned over the saddle's lip to give Sokka his full attention. Shoulders previously hunched together as he nudged the bison ever higher into the night sky, Sokka suddenly straightened, and held aloft his right hand in a dramatic gesture.

"You said it yourself – celestial navigation! With my best friend here guiding my way," He reached down to pet Appa, crooned something unintelligible in the bison's ear, and clambered his way up and past Zuko back into the broad litter that straddled the bison's back.

Zuko had already noticed that Sokka's favored positions were either astride the beast's head, when he was taking his turn as helmsman, or sprawled along the back wall of the litter. The Water Tribesman was, in Zuko's estimation, a lazy-ass.

"The real question is, what are _you_ doing here?" There was nothing lazy in the way Sokka's eyes glittered as he focused on Zuko. While his arms appeared to rest casually on the wall of the litter behind him, even in the moonlight Zuko could see tension in the wiry muscles of the other boy's bare arms. And he also noted how the sling of Sokka's ever-present boomerang seemed to prevent him from leaning back fully.

"Let's just say that it's possible even an idiot might have something to teach another person."

"How flattering. You inspire me to plant my toe firmly up your ass. But I'll grant you; at least you gave Aang a break by coming up here with me."

"What? You're all taking turns baby-sitting?" Zuko felt a slow burn crawling along his skin.

"No. Just Toph and me, actually. Toph 'cause she thinks maybe you'll kidnap Aang while we sleep, but honestly only because Katara and I suggested you might. Katara would, but she doesn't want Aang to believe she doesn't trust his judgment, so she's doing her best to ignore you. And Aang totally wants to believe you're his buddy. That leaves me to still be convinced you're a total shit-head. So there we are."

"You don't trust me. Yet you're not afraid to face me alone in a situation where I, as the fire-bender, have the advantage."

"Well, I'm not really afraid of heights – I've taken dives off Appa a couple times, and I trust him to do his best to catch me. You, I've noticed on the other hand, still go a bit green about the gills every time we take on altitude – bet you're feeling a bit queasy even as we speak."

Zuko quailed before Sokka's easy grin. It didn't help that the bison took a sudden jog with the Water Tribe boys' words, which made Zuko wonder seriously just how much the great beast understood of their conversation.

"The point, Sokka, the point!"

"The point? I told you before. You. Don't even _think_. About the girls. And if that means I'll be taking you with me when I meet friends for, um, distraction purposes, fine! So. You wanna learn about celestial navigation or not?"

"What? You'll take me with you…? Wait! What about Aang?" Zuko frankly gaped.

Sokka winked. Slowly, and in the moon-light Zuko wasn't sure about what he thought he saw.

"Zuko. Are you familiar with the stars known as the Seven Sisters? Some of my personal favorites. At this time of night, depending on where you are, you can find them about there, yes. There they are. Now. See the map? That means we are here. Okay. Now let me introduce you to your new best friend. But perhaps you've already met…"


	7. In A Field Of Sunflowers

A/N: If you're this far, then you are already aware of the challenge on the LJ community to get our good buddy Zuko laid in 10 defined locations. As stated elsewhere, I am bound and determined to describe scenarios wherein he aims to achieve said goal and just…fails. For which I earned the sobriquet "Zukogetsnone." I'm proud to own that title, I tell you, damned proud!

The deadline for the challenge is tomorrow, and with this posting I have three more locations to write. You may have noticed that each story is longer than the last. This is because I'm finding each one harder to write, and inspiration is being made up for in wordiness. I ain't gonna win the challenge, but I will still post all 10 locations. That's a promise.

Ah, a warning. This story is simply not funny. It is certainly erotic, but it is a bit dark. Which will allow me to lead into the next location (a plot device deliberately stolen from VickiSo).

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't claim it; am free from legal action thereby.

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**In A Field of Sunflowers**

They were so damned cheerful and yet, in a way, kind of creepy, too. Their giant heads, sunshine-splashed petals framing heavy pitch-black centers that hid a myriad of seeds closely packed and seemingly aching to yield forth their rich oil to the careful harvester. Oh yes, the brilliant contrast of primary yellows and greens, off-set by black eye-spots, against the blue of the sky? What could be more cheerful than a field of sunflowers?

In theory, conceptually, the cheerful aspect of this image should have lifted the heart of any observer.

However, what they don't tell you about a field of such flowers, as opposed to a bouquet, is the height the stems can attain, sometimes taller than any full-grown man, with stalks as thick as a young woman's arm. They don't tell you how overwhelming it can feel to be surrounded by thousands of blank, black eyes in an unremitting stare that is pitiless, devoid of intelligence or awareness. In fact, not cheerful at all. Just lonely.

But such a field is an excellent place to hide.

If you have the stomach for it. For those stark, swaying plants and their inadequate shadows. For staying perfectly silent, ignoring the voices seemingly inches away calling to one another about signs of your presence. For the thrashing noise of rough armor against drying leaves, the occasional flash of steel as a frustrated soldier decapitates a particularly tall and offensive stand.

Hours passed and the azure of the sky deepened to plum, deep cobalt and finally black pinpricked here and there and awash elsewhere with stars and a faint sliver of new moon. No color was left in the field, just varying shades of gray falling into inky black.

His back ached from holding the same position for so long. From time to time Zuko would stretch one limb or the other to ease the pins and needles sensation of his deadened extremities and ensure he would be able to act on a moment's notice.

A few feet away lay the girl, knees drawn up and hugged against her chest. He had wanted to reach over and pull her to him throughout this long vigil, because he really didn't trust her to stay quiet. And discovery of one meant discovery of both.

So he had wanted to cover her mouth with one hand and hold her limbs still against him with the other. Just to be sure. It had nothing to do with wondering about the softness of her lips or feeling her warm length against his. Nothing at all.

Besides, he was annoyed with her. If she hadn't recognized him as the thief of her ostrich-horse, calling attention to him as such on the outskirts of the market such that the Earth Kingdom soldiers became involved. If she hadn't then taken it into her head to run after him as he fled, he wouldn't have had to grab her arm and pull her from the path of the oncoming boulder the soldier had bended to stop him. It was her fault they were even interested in him at all, yet then the soldiers seemed to think they were together and pursued them both! So he had to pull her along, because he owed her that much. Because, to her he really was a thief.

Would they really search for hours for a mere thief? The question had gnawed at his consciousness for a while now.

"I think they've either moved on or given up," he said shortly. "In any case, they're gone and we can go now, too." He sat upright and reached out a hand to help her stand. They moved from the deep shadows cast by the taller stalks of sunflowers into a more open area where the soldiers had beaten down a swath in their search.

"I'm sorry," she raised her eyes miserably to his, "I was just so startled to see you again. I just wanted to talk to you–"

"I admit, I took your beast. I needed it." How could he confess why he had felt a sense of entitlement without betraying too much, more than she would have wanted to know? "I'm sorry if it – if I caused you difficulty."

"I understand desperation. If you had just asked…" She searched his eyes for something, then turned away, and he knew she hadn't found what she was looking for. But in the darkness what could she have seen anyway?

She sunk down on the ground again, oblivious of the bent and broken flower stems around her. Perhaps he should have left her there, but instead he knelt beside her.

He refused to consider her words, choosing instead to just look at her. He could just make out the faint luminosity of creamy skin peeking out from her loose collar, a missing button on her sleeve allowing an extra glimpse of forearm – what was it with these Earth Kingdom girls to wear so much clothing! Absolutely maddening when he remembered the more relaxed fashions of his home. But then, what good was his memory, anyway? And it did no more good to think of - was it Song, yes, that was the name – in terms of gauging her attractiveness than to worry about her opinion of him.

Except that he did not want her to turn around later and set the soldiers on him after all.

This time when he stretched out his hand he covered hers as it rested on her knee, and he looked her in the eye with all sincerity.

"I truly am sorry. Can you forgive me?" It took no great effort to pull the customary harsh note from his voice. Song was pretty and gentle, and really did not deserve more pain at his hands.

She didn't pull away, and the worry lines in her face cleared as she smiled in response. He felt emboldened to squeeze her hand gently, and shift himself so they were closer, much closer. He forced himself to relax, and noted a corresponding slump in her shoulders. He smiled. Her eyes darted a quick look at his face, then fell to her lap, and her free hand absently pushed stray locks of hair behind her ear.

"I- of course. It's forgotten, really," And Zuko felt her fingers flutter beneath his hand.

Slowly, as if he weren't aware of what he was doing, he drew his thumb along hers. At first she seemed to ignore it, but then she nudged her thumb against his. So he picked up her hand and brushed the back of it first against his cheek – the unscarred side – and then whispered "Thank you," lips ghosting against her fingers. Then he turned her hand palm up and pressed a kiss on her wrist, lingering briefly and then enfolding her hand in both of his.

Song didn't pull away, and her sharp intake of breath at the touch of his lips was easy to read as encouragement.

By now Zuko was feeling a bit dazed. His encounters with the other sex to date had been largely noteworthy only for the sense of frustration he was left with. In those hours spent hiding and waiting, he certainly had not expected this particular meeting to evolve into an opportunity work on his skills at charm. But he also remembered her warmth to him on their previous meeting. It seemed that at least some of that warmth still lingered. He would be mad to walk away now. This, whatever it was he was doing, was working for him!

Just take it slow, pay attention, and do what feels right.

"Song?" He hesitated, then still holding her hand with one hand reached with the other to mimic her earlier gesture of pushing her hair behind her other ear, gently, with one long finger. She turned her head slightly, to rest her cheek against his palm.

Leaning in to kiss her couldn't have felt more natural, and if he missed, catching the side of her upper lip first, he corrected swiftly, forcing himself to keep his touch gentle, to caress rather than crush. A pulse began to thrum heavily throughout his body, and if she spoke he didn't think he would be able to hear, so he pulled back abruptly, a shallow breath giving a moment's calm. He continued to cradle one side of her head, and she didn't move, although her free hand now clutched his forearm, and her eyes were wide as they gazed into his.

"Li, I think…I mean, oh!" And this time her lips sought out his, and with a low moan he pulled her close against him.

The name should have jarred his sensibility, but he had already reminded himself that he had given her a false name, although his memory had fallen short as to which one. And reality insisted that names didn't matter, just her touch, her hand in his hair, the faint scent of green tea and mint that clung to her clothes, and the slick wetness of her tongue against his teeth.

Shifting slightly he pulled her sideways onto his lap. As he trailed kisses across her eyelids, murmuring nonsense, "Sweet, sweet Song, lovely and giving…", he brought one hand up to her ear, gently stroking, savoring the smoothness of her skin as he brought his thumb down to the knot of fabric within its loop holding her tunic closed above her breasts. Now his lips were on her earlobe, her near arm around his shoulder and fingers still entwined in his hair while her other hand played across his jawline like a blind man memorizing a favored statue. The loop slipped easily over the knot as his mouth sought its way down her neck, tasting the hollows beneath her clavicle.

Her hands tightened on his head, and with superhuman discipline Zuko abandoned his lips' progress downwards to return to the slight pout forming on her mouth, sensing hesitation on her part.

Take it slowly and pay attention. To her, not the rock-hard erection painfully yet exquisitely confined against her thigh as she unconsciously ground her hips against his lap. At least, he assumed it was unconscious on her part.

Tongues touching and moist heat permeating every fiber of his being, Zuko's mental vision was overwhelmed when Song suddenly sucked hard, her tongue entwined around his possessively. Leaning backwards he rolled slightly, till they were both lying on the sunflower stalks, a rough bed of broken petals and hard seed heads that neither was even faintly aware of.

But Zuko couldn't help but become aware of a blade's edge against his neck that simply could not be dismissed as Song's fingernail. At least, not considering that he could account for both of Song's hands at the moment, and neither was anywhere near his neck.

"Prince Zuko, son of Firelord Ozai of the Fire Nation. I arrest you on behalf of the Earth Kingdom for crimes against humanity in your father's name."

As his brain connected the meaning of the words with the cold steel against the back of his neck Zuko learned new definitions for the words frustration, humiliation, and, yes, even patience but, oddly enough, not anger. At least, not after looking into the eyes of the girl beneath him as the glaze of lust left them and pain took its place.

"Now, 'Li', now it is forgotten. Now you owe me nothing."

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A/N: My father was a farmer and actually grew sunflowers as a cash crop. My memory of those fields went into informing this story.


	8. In An Earth Kingdom Prison

A/N: In case you wondered, I won the challenge through that wonderfully democratic process of a poll. It seems that the majority of the community enjoys reading about my particular brand of Zuko torture. Considering I was running against VickiSo's brilliance, I'm sure mine is not the only jaw dropped. Still, I promised to complete all ten locations…

I'm reasonably sure I'm still fitting in the proper rating with this one, but if anyone feels the need to set me straight, that's fine. It does get both fairly explicit, fairly raw, and introduces the element of non-consensual sexual intent. Consider yourself fairly warned.

Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender – don't own it, can't claim it, am exempt thereby from litigation.

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In An Earth Kingdom Prison

Apparently the warden of this tiny prison had no appreciation for irony. In all likelihood, he was doing the Fire Lord a favor in imprisoning Zuko, although Zuko himself suspected his father would have preferred a more private venue for holding his first-born.

A parade of local officials and army officers had come to his cell to gaze on him in chains, a living symbol of their wishes for the Fire Nation at large.

He felt no particular bitterness, not at being arrested, not even at being a fugitive from his own people. Not anymore. All of that, all of the resentment and fury had finally broken down and boiled away, leaving a residue dry as the dust of his prison floor, and just as sustaining.

Besides, he was hungry and in prison. Not exactly the time to ponder eternal truths. He'd save that for a better time, like maybe, the hour before his execution. He hoped they'd give him sufficient notice to finish his philosophical thinking, but if not, well. That too would be a fitting end for him, now wouldn't it?

He found himself laughing at his own predicament.

"Shut up. It's bad enough I have to be in the same space as Fire Nation scum, but I don't have to listen to you," with which words Zuko learned the cell on the other side of the wall was also occupied. The voice sounded distinctly young, and arrogant. His curiosity was mildly aroused.

"Apparently you do, unless you think mere tough talk will intimidate me."

"Ooh, so that's how a prince speaks! Fine vocabulary. And such diction, too. We'll see how well you speak when the earth-benders come to kill you."

"Is that how they'll do it, then?" Did that mean they wouldn't starve him to death? Could he expect a meal soon, or would they bother? It seemed absurd to be thinking about food at such a time. Food and sex. Always crowding out more coherent thought; what had happened to his sense of discipline?

"Who knows, Asshole. Maybe it will come as a pillow over your face while you sleep, a knife in your ribs during interrogation, or they'll not bring you water to drink ever again."

Now Zuko chuckled for real. "You know nothing then. This is what you fear for yourself."

He couldn't see him, but now he knew the other prisoner was another young man, and he wondered what sins besides being Fire Nation the Earth Kingdom thought worthy of capital punishment. Would it be something simple, like thievery, or would it require murder or treason?

"Oh, I don't think they'll kill me. This is a mistake."

"Riight."

"I don't have to justify myself to you. I'm a freedom fighter. Everything I've done is to rid the Earth Kingdom of the likes of you."

Zuko didn't answer, for a guard approached with two trays balanced in either hand. He shoved one beneath the clearance of the barred door to his cell. Zuko eyed the tray's contents critically, and decided that the chains binding his hands together before him would probably allow him to bring the food to his mouth without too much humiliation.

Still, he was glad the other prisoner couldn't see him.

He was less happy when an hour or so later several more guards appeared with two prisoners chained between them and, passing up his cell for the one next to him, he heard one call out:

"Get up, Jet, you're moving next door. We need your cell for this pair," followed by noises of protest and all-around swearing. He didn't like the implications of those words.

Sure enough, the door to his cell opened, a spear driving him back against the wall as his new cell-mate was driven in by another spear. He had been right. This "Jet" was hardly older than him, though certainly taller.

Unlike Zuko, Jet was not manacled in any way, so Zuko assumed he was not an earth-bender. Judging by the wary way the guards treated the young man, though, apparently he was considered dangerous even when not armed. Interesting. Perhaps he wasn't a complete lier.

For long minutes after the guards left, the two cell-mates sized each other up, wordlessly. For his part, Zuko saw arrogance in the other's swagger as he took up a stance leaning against the cell wall, an odd combination of sloth and pride in the unruly mop of hair and amalgamation of mismatched armor, and downright cunning in the other's hooded assessment of his own appearance.

He also noted the lithe grace with which Jet moved, the clear rolling of muscles beneath his clothing. His features were clean lined and even, and Zuko wondered what noble Earth Kingdom family had spawned the young reprobate before him. This was no awkward peasant. Whatever story he told, Zuko wouldn't believe it. He was a spy. It was the only logical answer.

"The 'wanted' posters don't do you justice, Your Highness," Jet smirked. "Without that damned hideous scar you'd be almost beautiful. How touching."

"Isn't it a pity I don't give a damn what you think," Zuko didn't relax. "You know me, but who are you?"

Jet gave his bitter tale of being orphaned at the age of eight by the Fire Nation. Zuko had heard such tales before and knew it was possible, but it didn't ring true this time. Oh yes, Jet's hate of the Fire Nation was genuine, but little else in his story was. Until it came to the part where he had been caught…

"Girls! I hate them! Every time I let my guard down for one she turns on me. There was that damned water-bender, and this time that tramp in the tavern. Just because her uncle was related to the old bastard in the valley, that swarm of Fire-Nation-loving vermin sucking up to the garrison…"

"Girls. Women. It doesn't matter. Their very existence is man's bane." He couldn't stop himself as he considered the last month or so, and the total lack of satisfaction he had received from what was supposed to be the fair sex.

"If she hadn't betrayed me… do you know what I mean?"

"Do I ever. I owe my presence here to one such lovely specimen."

"So, even a prince can get screwed…"

"Huh. I wish!" That was out before he could stop it.

Silence. Zuko mentally kicked himself. How had he let himself get dragged into this inane conversation?

Jet laughed. But there was a warmth to the laugh that had been missing from his earlier baiting, and Zuko was tempted to trust it. Almost. There was, perhaps, just a bit too much coincidence in Jet's story with his own. No. Jet was a spy.

From the folds of his tunic, Jet drew out a flask, which he opened and brought to his lips for a long pull. With a gesture and a rise of his brows, he offered it to Zuko, who refused. Jet shrugged in response.

"Just so we're clear, I hate your guts on principle," Jet said. "No offence."

"At the moment, I merely hate you for taking up my space," Zuko countered. "No offence."

Jet laughed. "We should get along just fine, then, but if you think we're sharing that sleeping mat you can think again."

"Some space is_ not_ for sharing."

But the night had been cold, very cold for late spring in the Earth Kingdom. Maybe it was just because the walls of their jail were carved out of the stone of the mountainside, but the sun's warmth never really seemed to penetrate. Zuko had awoken several times during the night to warm himself with his breath of fire. The first time he found himself wondering how Jet managed.

He found out. Jet had no qualms about plastering his body against his cell-mate, the older and larger boy taking advantage of Zuko's chains to clamp his hands against his chest, twisting the excess around his wrists painfully, and jamming one knee into his groin from behind as he forced Zuko's legs apart with the other.

"No offence, Your Highness," Jet growled hoarsely into his ear as his hand fumbled at Zuko's waist. Zuko could already feel the other boy's erection against his backside, and he wasted several seconds wondering why he didn't feel more insulted.

Jet's tongue flicked out to taste Zuko's jaw, and Zuko caught the whiff of alcohol on his assailant's breath. He forced himself to curtail his struggles as he considered his options, shoving aside as well his fury at his blindness to this particular attack.

Time for considering options ceased as Jet's hand clamped around Zuko's own manhood, and annoyance at his physical response to the alien touch fought with his recognition of Jet's other hand pulling aside the fabric of his pants, even as Jet's thighs continued their pressure against his.

Damn it. This was not _his_ idea of consummating sex. That jackass of karma or fate was messing with him yet again.

Jet's hand was on his ass, massaging and working its way closer to his anus. And it was not just his hand working in that direction. Well, it was time to teach the bastard that there was an alternate meaning to the phrase, "breath of fire!"

Another interesting point that confirmed Zuko's identification of Jet as a spy. Perhaps a perverse spy, but a spy none the less. There was virtually no response to Jet's scream of agony as Zuko focused his fire-bending on the release of accumulated gas from his heavily carbohydrate-loaded dinner.

Hardly royal behavior, but he doubted any member of the Fire Nation court would really have made a fuss, given the circumstances.

And, now. To get the hell out of here.

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A/N: Okay, okay. I never thought I'd stoop to this either. But when I started writing this, that phrase of Iroh's from "the Siege of the North" came to mind, and it wouldn't leave me alone until I dealt with it!


	9. Ancient Abandoned Ruins

A/N: Yada, yada, yada on the challenge on the LJ community to get our good buddy Zuko laid in 10 defined locations. The challenge was labeled "Geography Lessons". It has been generally conceded that no one teaches geography like I do.

When inspiration for snark is in short supply, wordiness results. This is definitely true for me. So if you're wondering why this is so long, well, now you know.

With Lesson #7 these things began to take on a continuous story line. This one brings us to the obligatory Zutara chapter. I leave it to you to decide if I still deserve my pseudonym of ZukoGetsNone…

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't claim it; am free from legal action thereby.

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**Ancient Abandoned Ruins (in the rain)**

His wrists were burnt. That, may, in fact, be a bit of an understatement, but given the ruin of the left side of his face Zuko was not particularly worried about scarring. He was, on the other hand, concerned about his continued ability to use his hands freely. He was very aware of the lack of elasticity in scar tissue, and newly aware that at least some of the muscles controlling his fingers ran across the area spanning his knuckles up to his forearm. This could be a problem.

Still, there had been no getting away from it. While he still wore the manacles that had forced his hands together in the Earth Kingdom prison, he had managed to heat the chains binding them sufficiently to weaken the links, breaking them almost as easily as he had split the hinges on the prison cell door. However, he had not been able to avoid the heat transfer to the manacles themselves, and it appeared this lack of finesse would cost him dearly.

Well. There it was. Yet another example of the failure of Fire Lord Ozai's first-born. How lucky he was not to have to worry about living up to his father's expectations any more. He wondered vaguely if his father would regret his escape from the Earth Kingdom prison that had prevented him from bringing further disgrace to Ozai's name.

But Zuko was past wasting much time on such concerns, and concentrated on working his way through the maze of tunnels that sufficed as security for this tiny Earth Kingdom outpost.

When he emerged it took but a few seconds to realize he had no real clue as to which way to go. The sky showed that pale new moon riding low, an indicator that the night was well advanced, which was supported by the utter lack of movement in the building behind him, torches burned to mere stubs in their sconces on either side of the doorway. How much time would he have before this place became a hive of activity to track down their notorious escapee?

Zuko was about to head to the stables to commandeer a mount for himself when he hesitated. That's how it had all begun. No. He would walk, and he would choose a direction where men on mounts would not be able to follow him.

So he climbed the steep slope of the hill-face behind him, the pain in his hands reminding him vaguely of the pain of near frost-bite from his climb of the glacial wall and hike across the tundra months back. At least this time he was not burdened by the slight weight of the avatar on his back. In fact, he was completely unburdened, lacking weapons or provisions. He wondered if it was a sign that his sanity was finally slipping that this very real lack weighed not at all on his mind. And then he wondered why he found this actually somewhat amusing.

He followed the course of the ridgeline, taking the steeper route again purely with the idea of slowing pursuers. As dawn approached he sought out a depression overhung by upthrust rocks broken off at some point in time, curling up to sleep the daylight hours away. Mentally, he thanked his uncle for teaching him a form of meditation that made it possible to ignore his scorched skin.

He was awake again well past midday, and decided to risk traveling in the remaining daylight. Besides, he relished the lowering sun's warmth on his face, and he could make better time when he could see the terrain before him clearly.

Which was just as well, because it soon became apparent that low clouds were gathering, and the night would be dark and almost certainly wet. He would have cursed his luck, but Zuko had finally decided that all his bad karma must surely be the result of heinous crimes in some forgotten past life, and there was no point worrying about it now.

Just before the sun set, Zuko saw down along the fall-line of some ancient avalanche the remains of a long-abandoned cluster of buildings. The ruined dome of a large structure in the center promised shelter from the coming storm, and he immediately turned off the ridge to descend, awkwardly gathering scattered deadfall along the path of rubble in the interest of building a fire later. He only partially noticed that he dropped one branch for every two he gathered.

For whatever purpose it had originally been built, it served admirably as a storm shelter. The open colonnade along one side provided a panoramic view of the valley below, particularly breathtaking when illuminated by occasional shattering bolts of lightening. The solid stone on the other sides protected Zuko's small fire from wind, rain, and view from any watchers below. The broken roof allowed a steady stream to obscure the far recess from all but the narrowest perspective, while cracks in the floor swallowed the flow before it could pool. It was obvious from the accumulation of burn marks and ash that Zuko was not the first camper to take shelter in these ruins.

Nor would he be the last, or even the only camper on this stormy night.

He had been feeling fairly comfortable, comfortable enough to start wishing for something to eat and to start worrying again about possible permanent impairment of his hands, when he heard the voice.

"Hush, Momo, stop complaining! You're only a little bit damp and this place will be perfect. We'll have no problems joining the others tomorrow."

Zuko wondered how it was the world had gotten so small that he kept running into people he knew long after the time had past when he ever wanted to see any of them again.

It was the water-bender. Yet another damned girl who had bested him. That stupid chit, hardly more than a child herself, who traveled with the avatar. Great. It was night, it was raining. His wrists were an agony to move at all, and he hadn't eaten in more than a day. He'd be lucky to come out of this alive, and, really. There was no point at all in thinking about luck.

"You." She stopped at the entrance to the alcove formed by the streaming water from the broken dome and the curved stone face. The winged lemur leapt from her shoulder to a niche in the near wall as she dropped into a bending stance.

"I've heard you use my name, so by all means, make yourself free of it now," Zuko didn't even stand up. He was tired. If she wanted to kill him, well, let her make the first move. He raised his arm to gesture towards the fire that burned between them. "While you're at it, make yourself free of that as well."

She raised a brow and looked at him in surprise. "You're kidding…right?"

"Oh, but maybe water-benders would rather stay out in the rain and get soaked. You are soaked, you know." Zuko noticed the wet fabric clinging to her form, and for the first time he realized that form was not a child's really at all. Damn, no. The girl had some definite curves on her. And a part of Zuko's brain went numb. Just when his brain was about the only thing he still had going for him.

The look on the Water Tribe girl's face was now definitely appraising. He suspected she took in the manacles, noted the lack of armor and accoutrements. Well, she'd seen him without his prince's cockscomb before, so she had to know things had changed. She couldn't know how much, because he didn't know that for himself.

"You look like hell."

"Didn't your elders teach you better manners before royalty?"

"You're not my prince."

"Fine. Are you rude to everyone you don't know?"

Her laugh rippled across the room.

"Oh, Zuko, I remember being much ruder to you than this! Surely we know each other that much," Her face grew serious. "I mean it, you look awful."

"I offer you my fire, and you make unflattering personal remarks. You really are a peasant."

"There you go, that's more like it. It's not like you to be gracious. Something must be very wrong, indeed."

"You know nothing about me." What an odd creature she was. He could swear he almost heard concern in her voice, but that was probably a figment of his imagination, the same imagination that saw something appealing in the exotic combination of dusky skin and wide, impossibly blue eyes. "I know even less of you. You have a name, don't you?"

"Katara. Do you mind if I get some food for Momo and me?" She kept her eyes on his, and her movements were slow as she approached the fire.

"Not at all. Katara of the Southern Water Tribe," he drawled. "Where are your friends, your brother?"

"Oh, they're around," he noted her response was carefully vague. "You've got some bad burns there." She hesitated.

His eyes shifted to her hands, long delicate fingers pulling at the drawstring of her haversack. His memory filled with his own grip on those slender wrists, how he had felt he could crush them so easily, how those same wrists had hurled a virtual tidal wave of ice and snow against him.

Zuko's head was throbbing, and the heat that rushed through his body had nothing to do with the fire before him. Could it have anything to do with this girl?

He laughed. "I'm a fire-bender. Burns are no big deal." He definitely did not want her thinking he was in any way incapacitated. He was all about appearing to be magnanimous right now. Not weak.

"Riight," Her eyes stole a careful glance at his scar, but she said nothing about it. "Listen, I appreciate the fire. I know it's not much, but I've got some bread and jerky, would you accept it as payment for sharing?"

"I don't need payment."

"Well, I need to feel I'm not begging, so would you please accept it?"

"Whatever." He was careful to prevent any tremble in the hand that stretched out. Even so, as her fingers inadvertently touched his he felt a shock that jolted through his body. Damn. He hated girls. He hated being an adolescent, since he was sure well grown men were not subject to these absurd mental blocks upon confrontation by any reasonably attractive female. Yes. The water-bender was admittedly more than reasonably attractive. When did that happen, anyway?

He managed to eat the bread and jerked meat slowly. Actually, he couldn't have eaten faster if he'd tried, for a strange disconnect had settled in between his brain and his muscles, a product of the fever born of lacerated flesh exposed too long.

She reached out for his hand slowly, gently, at the same time beckoning him forward with her other hand. Although his ears seemed muffled in cotton wool, he would swear he heard sweet blandishments from her lips, and the fullness of those lips drew him to obey, a promise of honeyed nectar there and the pulsing tides of the ocean in her eyes drawing an answering tide of his own…

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In the morning light Zuko found himself quite alone. He lay within a handspan of the trickle that the night before had been a torrent of runoff from the storm. His head was wonderfully clear. More importantly, his wrists were clean of scar or even redness, although the smoothly pink band of skin that encircled each wrist hinted at delicate youth. And his hands turned, clasped, and thrust with the pull of muscles tested but not strained.

He could remember nothing from the night before beyond her offer of payment for sharing his fire. He blushed to remember what he now must believe had to be his dream.

He had heard of the rare water-bender's healing skill, a skill she must have. Now he assumed that, for some reason of her own, she had gifted him with her healing. It seemed too great a gift for the warmth of a fire.

But he dared not even dream it was a gift for anything else.


	10. An Ostrichhorse Stable

A/N: At last, at last, Zuko's education, at my hands anyway, is nearing completion. What follows is the final submission on the challenge on the LJ community to get our good buddy Zuko laid in 10 defined locations. The challenge was labeled "Geography Lessons". I don't think I'm going to be offered tenure.

As noted in earlier lessons, when inspiration for snark is in short supply, wordiness results. This is definitely true for me. So if you're wondering why this is so long, well, now you know.

With this final lesson, a brief nod will be made to many past lessons (i.e., those within the appropriate timeline). By the way, this location is dedicated to Storybender, whose work on the Zukok/Jun pairing I have borrowed cough-stolen from-cough heavily on, and who first suggested the ending when I showed her the work in progress.

Warnings: Definitely strong language, abuse of innuendos, and violence.

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't claim it; am free from legal action thereby.

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**An Ostrich-horse Stable**

Sweat poured down his neck, streaming in heavy rivulets down the creases of his bare torso and back muscles as he pushed and strained. He strove to control the fury of his movements, to shift them into smooth long strokes rather than short, ill-timed thrusts.

But Zuko had not had a lot of practice at mucking out stables, and although he had spent much of his admittedly short lifetime at the practice of controlling his temper, the reality was he probably would need a lifetime more before he could govern it properly. And no matter what Uncle Iroh said about the benefits of humility to his soul, Zuko could only focus on the humiliation of shoveling shit, seemingly acres of it, for a prince of the Fire Nation's royal family.

Uncle had uttered some drivel about a greater man than he could ever hope to be having been given the labor of cleaning out a stable of thousands of cattle in just one day, and how Zuko could take a lesson from both the example of this great man stooping to common laborer's work and the fact that the common laborer did it every day. But what Zuko noticed was that Uncle's task was to entertain the children of the stable owner up at the house (it was just possible that his chuckles could be heard over the squeals of the younglings as he wove tale after tale of bizarre heroes).

In fact, in all the time that he and his uncle had traveled together in the guise of mendicants or laborers Zuko had never seen his uncle bend his back to the shovel or the field. This despite his many aphorisms about the virtues of common toil.

Zuko suspected that, if questioned, Iroh would merely return some cloudy remark about expecting from each that which he was best suited to give, and that an old man's mind could provide more value than his arm. Even though Zuko knew full well that his uncle could more than match even earth-bender muscle, despite his age and rotundity.

Uncle never applied his wiles to getting Zuko out of the most menial of tasks. While there were all kinds of levels on which to question this, Zuko had hesitated to challenge Iroh on any of them to date.

But after spending the day knee-deep in ostrich-horse shit he was more than ready to begin.

Zuko exchanged the shovel for a pitchfork and began the tedious business of filling the now clean stalls with fresh hay.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Angry Boy, himself."

Some voices do not require much exposure to imprint themselves upon the mind.

"I guess you didn't find your girl-friend."

"That's all you think _you_ know." He couldn't resist saying it, even if he knew he was only reinforcing the bounty hunter's stupid impression of his relationship with the Avatar's water-bender. "I found her all right."

"Whoo-hoo," the dark-haired woman mocked as she slid from her ugly, wrinkled-skinned nosed mount. The dark leather of her jerkin creased seductively around her breasts, and Zuko wondered how he had missed this effect before. "Rejected you again, did she? I told you she was too pretty for you."

"Not at all," he replied. At least, he thought to himself, not exactly the _last_ time they had met, although his memory was still foggy on that account. "She gave me what I needed from her." Okay. So he was playing word games here. Perhaps some would say he 'needed' to have the snot beaten out of him by a girl before coming face to face with his sister again after three years. Certainly, no one would argue he needed his burnt wrists healed when last he came across the water-bender.

As for the needs implied by the sultry woman before him, with her raised brow and the forward thrust of her breasts as she leaned on one hip before him? Well, the bitch deserved no clearer statement.

"My, my. Angry Boy's all grown up and still, oh so angry." And she laughed, a low, throaty chuckle that sent a tremor from Zuko's audio canal down deep to stir the restless beast of his young man's passions. "Where's Uncle Lazy, Handsome?"

And this struck a chord all wrong.

Zuko had been leaning on his pitchfork through this exchange, preferring to keep this questionable character in view than to turn his back on her. Her mockery fit well into their previously established pattern, and her remembering Iroh was all of a piece as well. But Jun had, without doubt, found his scar hideous, so for her to suddenly call him "handsome" sent Zuko's alarms ringing madly.

"Couldn't say. We were separated." And so they were. Yes, they had subsequently been reunited, but Zuko was proud of himself for, so far, parsing the truth so finely as to save him from an outright lie. Zuko wasn't good at lying.

Jun was a bounty hunter, and would be fully aware that there was a bounty not only on his head but on his uncle's. So Jun was clearly calculating her odds of collecting both bounties.

Suddenly the stable walls felt very close indeed. Zuko stepped back slightly, leaning away from the pitchfork while keeping his hands lightly balanced on its shaft. He squared his shoulders and slowly, subtly shifted his legs into a broader stance.

The bounty hunter hissed slightly with her indrawn breath. Zuko tried to read the appraising look she was giving him, and felt oddly uncomfortable as her eyes seemed to travel almost leisurely up and down his form.

Zuko knew the right side of his face still reflected the fine bones and clean lines that showed to such beauty in his sister, but for once found comfort in the ruin of his left side, turning it like a shield against Jun's speculative gaze. Now he regretted forgoing the effort of maintaining his previously shaven skull, even without the proud cockscomb; he knew the roughly grown mat of dark hair lacked authority. Her eyes seemed to linger on his torso, following the faint discoloration and puckered lines here and there from burns and healed-over cuts. A faint smile tugged at her lips, and Zuko had the distinct impression of being a cut of meat undergoing inspection by a connoisseur. He nervously drew one hand across the hard plane of his stomach, flushing as her smile broadened into a grin as she followed his movement.

"My, aren't we touchy?" she murmured audibly. "Was it something I said? I think, perhaps, we have some unfinished business."

And Zuko would swear something had changed in the way she spoke to him. He knew she was dangerous and cunning, and he would do well to remember that the whip in her belt was by no means purely decorative. Still, when she tilted her head that way, letting her wave of ebony hair fall across one eye, he felt something catch in his throat, and a familiar rhythm began to pulse throughout his body. The woman before him was very, very much a woman, and it didn't help his muddying thought processes to have her shift position, arms crossed beneath those full breasts as she thrust her hips forward.

He swallowed hard. "You failed me. You have your xirxiu back. I think we are even."

Zuko knew he was spouting nonsense, but he also knew better than to let Jun be aware of his real suspicions against her. And he did his best to ignore the provocation of her stance.

"So. You don't blame _me_ for that? It was sheer luck that the nuns made perfume, and worse luck that those damned water tribers figured out to use it against my xirxiu," she shrugged, almost nonchalantly. "It wasn't my fault. It's never happened before and it will never happen again."

As she spoke, Zuko had leaned again into the pitchfork, having decided that the motions of pitching straw provided better cover for a sudden shift to fire-bending than an upright stance. Not to mention a better cover for a raging hard-on. Now he found the long, even strokes of his thrusts second nature, and an evil voice in the back of his mind questioned if the presence of the lean, curvaceous form of the bounty hunter before him had anything to do with it.

The heat gathering in his belly and accompanying erection seemed answer enough. He was suddenly aware of the trail of sweat snaking its way along the fine, dark hairs below his navel, joining the moist heat already accumulating down there. And he wondered yet anew what insult he had hurled to the spirits in a previous life to warrant his treatment thereof now. It did not occur to him to question his current life's activities.

Which may explain, in part, the lack of assistance he received from said spirits in the here and now.

"So, Angry Boy. Shall I show you what it means to do a clean sweep?" Jun rolled her hips suggestively.

Whoa. So it wasn't just him. She did just suggest something, well, _carnal, _didn't she? Why was it that when opportunities for sex did come to him they were so damned dangerous? He needed to back off from this, definitely.

Zuko offered a feral snarl in response. "Sorry, Jun, I seriously doubt a peasant like you can impress me."

"Awwe. Water-girl didn't do the trick? Now, I am surprised. The water tribes are famous, actually, for their…thoroughness. But perhaps she didn't give you her best."

With which words, June closed the distance between them with preternatural speed, twisting the tool from his grasp before he realized she had even moved, slamming her body against him and them both into the low pile of hay.

Zuko found his body enveloped by the odd hard/soft combination of Jun's muscular frame and delicious curves, her legs straddling his (ah, glorious!), her breasts, tightly framed by the leather of her jerkin and, Zuko suspected, nothing else, (definitely not mushy, somewhere between firm and soft and incredibly voluptuous and, really, why hadn't anyone come up with the exact word that described the way a woman's breasts felt against your chest?).

His own physical response was, of course, at no question here.

So. Why the fuck couldn't he manage to contain a simple thing like an erection?

Reflexively he grabbed her arms above the elbows, trying to decide if he should be defending himself or urging her on. He had forgotten how damned strong she was, though, and with this realization came the thought that her damned xirxiu and its paralyzing tongue was not more than a dozen feet away in the stable yard. Would it come to her if she called it? Would he be able to block her _and_ that nasty tongue?

And why were her thighs gripping him so hard?

"Come on, Angry Boy, show me what you've got," Jun purred into Zuko's ear, shifting her weight slightly. And the rough hide-wrapped handle of the whip was no longer jabbing him uncomfortably in the gut, but it was even less comfortable to contemplate what she intended doing with it now that it was no longer at her belt. Well, it wasn't in her hand at the moment, because that hand was working its way inside the waistband of his pants. Her other hand was at the back of his head, fingers fisting on his short hair.

This was a good thing, right?

Jun's tongue ran down Zuko's neck, and her teeth closed, hard, on his shoulder just as her fingers gripped his aching cock, definitely _not_ gently.

Something snapped in Zuko's brain. The full catalog of females to have casually handled his manhood, metaphorically or otherwise, reeled through his brain, starting with the water-bender's slamming him into the ice, followed closely by his near escape from death at his sister's hands. Oh yes, it included the off-handed flirtation of the cabbage man's wife, that Blue Spirit warrior at the festival (too, too much irony there), silent and deadly Mai, the lovely Song – to whom he owed that maniac's attack on him in the Earth Kingdom prison, even the ditz-brained floozy in the cave! And now this!

Enough already. There was just no way he was going to succumb to the control of yet another! He tightened his grip on Jun's arms and, breathing deeply to ignore her various holds on his own anatomy, rolled hard to the right, grinding his hips against her to crush those cruel fingers before they could cause him any more pain or confused pleasure.

"You want to know what I got, peasant?" Zuko hissed as he bore his chin against her temple with bruising force to dislodge her teeth. She moaned beneath him, and he assumed it was from pain, for she pulled her head away even as she pulled back on his hair. He ignored the pain, since his hair was too short and fine for her to have gained real purchase on it. Digging his own fingers into her wrist he pulled her hand away, pinning it above her head. "Are you sure you can take it?"

Zuko willed heat to gather in his palm, and watched with appreciation as Jun's eyes widened, watering slightly as the contact with her skin translated to pain.

"My mistake, Angry Boy, perhaps I misunderstood," he watched as panic fought with calculation in the bounty hunter's eyes. She made no attempt to move beneath him. But Zuko saw a trace of confidence return to her face as they both realized that his arousal was by no means diminished.

"Don't. Call. Me. Boy!" He dived into her lips for a cruel kiss as he reached down with his other hand to free himself from her hold by the expedient of again driving his thumb into her wrist. Now he interlaced his fingers with hers, bringing both hands to either side of her head, and leaned heavily on her forearms as he raised himself up again, grinding his loins against her all the while.

"Send that damned beast away. You came here for something, and believe me, you won't be leaving without some kind of…satisfaction," He had kept his eyes locked on her even during the kiss. Adrenalin was soaring through his system now, and Zuko felt a rush of power he hadn't experienced since helping his uncle take down the Earth Kingdom soldiers back before the solstice.

Jun nodded, licking her lips and gathering breath.

"Oh, don't try to trick me and call it in here instead," he allowed smoke to trail from his mouth. "I could kill you with a breath." Now both palms heated up to emphasize his words.

She swallowed hard and then whistled sharply, twice. He heard the beast lumber away, and his lip curled in satisfaction.

At last, he thought to himself. At last I'm going to get some.

"Ah, children, I believe what you see before you is the end of a sparring match. It would seem 'Li' is the victor," an all-too-familiar voice interrupted his silent triumph. "Get up, 'Li'. I believe your, er, excitement over your success has allowed you to forget the proper form."

Zuko seriously, seriously wanted to weep.

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And with this, ZukoGetsNone retires. Thank you for your indulgence, and you may pick up your grades with your final reviews…


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